


Little Talks

by sippingonstardust



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and the Signal (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Dick and Tim, batbros being bros, kind of, maybe ooc idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 16:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sippingonstardust/pseuds/sippingonstardust
Summary: “Isn’t it funny,” he says, reaching down to ruffle a hand through Damian’s hair out of sheer spite. “That the sun sets every day but I never get tired of watching it happen.”





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with the short fics that serve no purpose, eyyy.

 

He always felt safe in the sunlight. Gotham was a dancing, raging sea of chaos and fear. Each wave found its peak in the darkness and only crested with the break of a new dawn. He could live in the shadows. He could breathe and fight and hide in the dark. But he could not stay there.

No, he much preferred the touch of a sunbeam, gentle and delicate like the lap of low tide. It was where he was safe, where the light was easier to see and manipulate and track. He felt a certain sort of kinship there that he couldn’t find with the bats, no matter how well integrated he had become with them.

He often found himself chasing the sun’s rays in the manor; taking the chair under the window at breakfast to feel the heat of the morning sunshine at his back, cracking open the windows to let the midday warmth seep into the cold rooms of the house, risking his neck by climbing onto the roof to watch the sunset, sometimes with Damian in tow.

“Isn’t it funny,” he says, reaching down to ruffle a hand through Damian’s hair out of sheer spite. “That the sun sets every day but I never get tired of watching it happen.”

Damian hisses with malignancy and barred teeth that resembles Alfred the cat. He scoots himself a foot to the left, just out of Duke’s reach and turns his gaze back to the sky. For a moment, with the world cast in the burning orange and dusky pinks that marked the beginning of another night’s patrol, Duke felt at peace. As though there was no urgency, no puzzle to solve or people to save. He had no weight to bear or baggage to carry. He felt free. He’d been thoroughly energized from his exposure to the sun, he feels loose-limbed and easy. 

“There is beauty in sustained occurrences.” 

Damian shares the thought after a long moment and as usual, Duke is surprised by the way he still manages to sound wise beyond his years, like a tired old man stuffed into a tiny teenagers body. That’s an alarming thought considering the stunts his grandfather has tried to pull off in the past few years.

“You’re right,” he concedes. “But nothing ever makes me feel as happy as the sun does.”

“Well, you are sort of a beacon, Thomas.” The space between them lessens once more, with Damian leaning back on his elbows to take a languid stretch. “Every time I see you outside of the cave you’re surrounded by it. Light. It’s like it calls to you.”

He snorts. “When Dick was high on pain meds last week, he told me it’s because I’m a sapling and I need the sunlight to grow.”

He’d been thoroughly drowned in levity at the time, catching Tim’s eye and bursting into a fit of nervous laughter. He could have sworn that even Bruce had cracked a smile. Now though, he watches Damian’s face pinch up in pained amusement.

“You take that as high praise, don’t you?”

“Well, no one’s ever called me a sapling before.”

Damian heaves a drawn sigh, slapping his palm flat against the roof tile. “He’s right. I could see it.”

“You  _ can _ ?” he asks, incredulously.

“He expects you to flourish and bring about goodness, does he not. It’s a metaphor.”

“It was Dick on drugs.”

Damian gets ansty as dusk begins to settle. While pink fades into a deep blue, Duke lets himself comb over the fact that Damian basically just paid him a compliment. It instills a bright burst of pride in his chest. It was warmth and joy cradled in tender hands and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

“You think I’m going be something good too,” he hums as they climb back into the house through the window. Even at full height, Damian still barely scrapes his chin and Duke feels the urge to ruffle his hair again nip at his fingers. He restrains himself, in fear of losing a hand to a knife or teeth.

“Now, don’t flatter yourself.”

“You said you could see it.”

“You’re becoming as annoying as Drake is. Yes, Thomas. I can see you instilling good into the hearts of Gotham, that is not something you haven’t heard before.”

_ Haven’t heard it from you, _ he thinks. But he understands that compliments from Damian are a rarity and he aims to treasure them for as long as he can. He also comes to the recognition, in the dark hallways of the manor, that he still feels warm and whole. Sunlight was a beautiful constant that he needed, but being reminded of Damian’s approval was a unique blanket of comfort he looked forward to meeting again, even if he had to search for it in the dark.

“Hey, let’s go tell Tim that he slept through patrol again.”

 


End file.
